


The Gala

by sparrow445



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24406906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrow445/pseuds/sparrow445
Summary: What if Meredith hadn't come back to Seattle after Derek's death?25 years after Derek's death, and Meredith abrupt departure from Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital, Meredith and her children return to celebrate the unveiling of a new neurosurgery wing named in honor of her late husband.
Relationships: Meredith Grey/Derek Shepherd
Comments: 7
Kudos: 72





	1. The Sliding Glass Doors

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of the characters from _Grey's Anatomy_.

Meredith Grey stands outside the sliding glass doors of Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital in a floor length black gown under a mid-length black trench coat. Her hair is up in an elegant French twist with a scarf protecting her neck from the Seattle’s chilly night air. 

The last time she stood in front of these doors her husband had just died. Derek Shepherd had just died, and she was trying to work up the courage to tell her colleagues…her friends…her family. That was the one and only time she walked into that hospital knowing Derek wasn’t inside studying a chart at the nurses’ station, or performing a craniotomy in his ferryboat scrub cap, or waiting for her in an on-call room in his dark blue scrubs being all McDreamy, or whatever. 

She couldn’t stand the idea of walking around this hospital without him in it so she'd left. She told her family and friends about his death, and just left. Packed up her two kids and ran off to work first Skripp’s Mercy Hospital in San Diego and then at New York-Presbyterian. 

She worked hard at New York-Presbyterian, working her way up to the head of the General Surgery Department, raising three kids (yup, she gave birth a third child, who she’s hidden from her Grey-Sloan family for the child’s entire life), and, on the whole, trying to move on from Derek. It didn’t really work. Sure, she tried to go on a few dates every now and then, sometimes a single dad from the PTA, and other times another doctor at the hospital, but never with another doctor at the Brigham. And never with a neurosurgeon, even though they were, by far, the most persistent doctors around.

And despite all of the physical and emotional distance Meredith had tried to put between herself and the memories of Derek, here she was staring at Grey-Sloan Memorial’s sliding glass doors trying to coax herself in. They were celebrating a new neurosurgery wing--aptly named the Shephard Wing of Neurosurgery--and thought it would be nice to invite her and her children. 

“Mom. You coming?” Her daughter Zola stands at the now-open doors in a stunning green, floor-length, silk gown. She's right next to her younger brother, Bailey, looking as handsome as ever in his tux. 

“Yes, sweetheart.” Meredith takes a deep breath, and heads towards her children. 

“It’s going to be okay, Mom.” Bailey tries to reassure her. “We’ll be here with you the whole time.”

“We won’t leave your side.” Zola chimes in. 

The children take up positions on either side of Meredith and walk with her through the sliding glass doors. 

The lobby looks exactly the same as when Meredith walked out of this hospital almost twenty-five years ago. The blue chairs with brown wooden arms are still clustered like an airport terminal next to the windows on a square of blue carpet. The sleek white tile floor has clearly been waxed for the occasion, and the bridge connecting the two halves of hospital still dominates the entranceway. 

“Oh.” Meredith inhales at the sight of the bridge. All her memories come rushing back. Mainly, a bang of a gunshot and Derek lying on the ground wanting to close his eyes as she begs him not to. 

“What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing, Zo. Nothing.” Meredith stops walking. The doors haven’t had a chance to close behind her. “It’s just…so much happened on that bridge there. You probably don’t remember any of it.” 

Her memory of the gunshot fades away into much happier things, and she smiles.

_It’s not the thrill of the chase. It’s not a game. It’s your tiny little ineffectual fists and your hair. It smells good…And you’re very, very bossy. Keeps me alive._

She was still not going out with him. Man, if only she knew how all that would end. 

_You have a piece of paper?...I want to be with you forever. And you want to be with me forever. In order to do that, we need to make vows. A commitment. A contract. Give me a piece of paper._

All she had were post-its and a blue click pen. 

_Zola…Can you smile for me? See her facial movements are intact. Okay, look over here. See that watch how she’s tracking me. Over here! [he snapped his fingers twice] Neuro exam is good. Even after the shunt._

And then he asked Meredith to adopt their first child. 

Meredith comes back to the present. “You guys weren’t there for most of it,” she tells her two eldest. 

“You’re getting all mushy, Mom,” Bailey notes. 

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” Zola retorts. 

Meredith thinks for a moment. Then, “Don’t tell my residents.” 

Zola and Bailey laugh. “Never,” they chime in unison. 

The trio continues up to the second floor waiting area, which has been converted into a gala function space, much like it was for the prom, oh so long ago. 

The security guard at the top of the stairs asks to see their invitations, and Meredith digs around in her purse. She hands the security guard an invitation. 

"There are four names on here." 

"Yes," Meredith explains. "My other daughter, Ellis, she'll be joining us later." 

The security guard looks at the sceptically before checking three names off his list. He steps aside to let them into the party. 

“I’ll go get some drinks.” Bailey walks off. 

Meredith and Zola stand awkwardly off to the side of the entrance. 

“I’ve always hated these things.” Meredith explains. 

“I know.”

“Your father always loved them. Thrived at them. I hate them.” 

“I know.” 

“Did you know, there was this one charity gala, and one of the other attendings had turned it into a competition to see which surgical department could raise the most money. Your father woke Bailey up in the middle of the night—he couldn’t’ve been more than a month or so—and used him to charm donors?” Meredith laughs at the memory. 

“Seriously?” 

“Seriously. Have I never told you about that?”

“Never.” 

“Oh, well—“

Bailey returns and interrupts his mother. “What are you two talking about?” He distributes the drinks. 

“You,” Zola answers. 

“Oh great.” 

“You bet.” 

“Meredith? Meredith Grey?” Someone is calling from the crowd. “Dr. Meredith Grey, is that you?” 

“Yes…” Meredith responds to the voice. 

Dr. Arizona Robbins rushes out of the crowd. “Meredith Grey!” 

“Arizona!” Arizona wraps Meredith in a vice grip of a hug. 

“How have you…? We didn’t think…? What have you…?” Arizona stammers through a series of questions, astonished.

“Oh, it’s a very long story Arizona.” Meredith answers, trying to stop Arizona’s stammering. 

“I will make as much time as necessary to hear the entire story.” 

Meredith changes the topic, “You remember my kids. Zola and Bailey.” 

“Of course. How could I forget? Not only did I babysit the two of you when you were little, I operated on you, Zola.” 

“Did she really?” Zola turns to her mother. 

“Yes. Your shunt failed and she repaired it.” 

“Ooo. Sounds fun,” Zola adds. 

“Oh, it was. Well, maybe more nerve-wracking than fun—operating on your best friends’ future child. But anyway…enough about that…oh! You guys are so big now! I mean, you probably stopped hearing you big a long time ago, but you really are so much bigger than when we last saw you. Of course. What are the two of you doing right now? Something fun and exciting I’m sure.” 

Tired of being the center of attention, Zola lets Bailey take the lead on this one. “Both of us are both in the middle of our residencies. Zola at Georgetown, and myself at John’s Hopkins.” 

“Really?" Arizona is very impressed at how easily Bailey named dropped those excellent medical schools. "That’s fantastic! Meredith you have some very intelligent kids.” 

“Yes, I do. Thank you.” 

Arizona spots someone in the crowd. She’s practically bouncing with excitement. “Chief! Chief!”

Dr. Miranda Bailey walks out of the crowd to join Meredith’s small circle of people. 

“Is that Meredith Grey?” Dr. Bailey asks. 

Meredith laughs. “Yes, it is.” 

Dr. Bailey pulls Meredith in for another hug. 

“Did I hear Arizona call you Chief?” 

“Yes.” 

“Congratulations! When did that happen?” 

“Oh, about 10 years ago, now.” 

"10 years of spectacular innovation from the first female Chief of Surgery," Arizona praises. 

"I would expect nothing less," Meredith assures. Dr. Bailey had been a force of nature when Meredith was at Grey-Sloan, and Seattle Grace before that, and she doesn't expect that drive to have slowed down any less when she left. Meredith is truly, incredibly proud of her mentor, if a bit upset that she wasn't here to witness it.

Dr. Bailey asks Meredith the same questions Arizona did—where’s she been? how has she been?—and again Meredith deflects with her children. She really doesn’t want to talk about why she couldn’t stay here at Grey-Sloan. That would require talking about Derek, and even after 25 years, she’s still not over his death.


	2. Double scotch, single malt

Bailey Shephard could only listen to his mother and her former colleagues reminisce about working together at Grey-Sloan Memorial for so long. So after about five minutes of answering the same question—“Bailey you’re so big now. What are you doing?”—he excuses himself to get another drink. 

He leans on the bar counter. “Double scotch, single malt. Please,” he asked the bartender. 

“You got it.” The bartender walks away to make the drink, and Bailey surveys the scene while he waits. 

There's the crowd of older doctors, probably all attendings, gathering around his mother and Zola. The dance floor is packed with people in their mid-to-late twenties, about the same age as his younger sister, Ellis—Ellie to those who knew her. Interns, Bailey thought to himself. Finally, Bailey’s eyes scanned tables around the dance floor where the residents were hanging out. 

Sure, Bailey was in a fellowship program at John’s Hopkins, so no longer technically a resident, and he should probably be hanging out with (schmoozing?) the attendings if that’s what he aspired to be one day. At least that’s what his Aunt Christina would say. But no, he was much closer in age to the residents. Actually, scanning the tables, probably younger than some of them. This was going to be a long night as it is—bringing up the few memories he had of walking around these hallways holding his father’s hand, playing with him in the daycare—he does not want to be schmoozing his mother fifty year old friends all night. 

“Here you go.” The bartender places Bailey’s drink on the bar. 

“Thanks.” Bailey takes it and heads towards the residents. 

“Mind if I join you guys?” Bailey asks a table. 

They all stare at him. Residents are notoriously territorial: if you don’t go through your intern year with them--drawing blood, running labs, writing orders, and hating their egotistical residents--then you are an outsider. And right now, every single resident at this table is staring at Bailey like the outsider he is. Well, almost every resident. 

“Not at all.” A resident in a long blue dress with her curly red hair pulled into loose bun moves over to make room for Bailey next to her. 

“Thanks.” Bailey slides right in. 

“No problem,” she responds. 

The rest of the residents stare silently at Bailey, the intruder, but this ethereal woman smiles at Bailey. He smiles right back. 

“I’m Dr. Morris.” She reaches out her hand. 

Bailey shakes it. “I’m Dr. Shep—” He pauses. Should he say he’s Dr. Shephard, and give away that he’s related to the name sake of this brand new surgical center? Oh, the questions that would raise. Should he say he’s Bailey, and try to take on all the questions and story-telling that would go into explaining that he’s not related to the Chief of Surgery, but is named after her? Using his middle name, Derek, would just lead to all the same questions as saying his name’s Dr. Shepard. So he rolls with it.

“I’m Dr. Shephard.” 

And just as expected, Dr. Morris asks, “Any relation to Dr. Derek Shephard?” 

“Yup.” 

“Really?!”

“Yup.”

Some other resident at the table pipes up, clearly jealous of Dr. Morris’s attention being turned away from him. “You ever going to elaborate or just stick with the one-word answers?” 

“Dr. Shephard was my dad.” 

“What?!” The whole table suddenly becomes very interested in Bailey’s story. 

Bailey only pays attention to Dr. Morris’s question, “So is neuro your specialty?”

A valid question, Bailey thinks. “No,” he answers. “Cardio. I was inspired by my Aunt Christina. Yang…”

“Dr. Christina Yang?! Who successfully 3-D printed the first heart conduit?!” Man, the other residents at this table are really annoying. 

But he answers them nonetheless, “Yeah, that Dr. Christina Yang. She’s my mom’s best friend.”

Bailey turns back to the lovely Dr. Morris, “How ‘bout you? Your specialty is…”

“Ortho.” 

Bailey raises his eyebrows in surprise. 

“What?” Dr. Morris counters. “You don’t think I can be a good orthopedic surgeon?”

“Not at all. I think you’re an excellent orthopedic surgeon…”

“But?”

“What makes you think there’s a ‘but’?” Bailey tries to defend himself. 

She got him right where she wants him, “There’s always a ‘but’.” 

“It’s just that…” he goes for it, “you seem a little small. For smashing bones and stuff.” 

“oof. Wrong answer dude.” Jealous Guy tries to work his way back into the conversation, but by Dr. Morris’s quick inhalation of breath, Bailey knows Jealous Guy is probably right. Damn. 

\--------------------------------

Dr. Bailey and Arizona had called Callie and Avery over to join in Meredith's interogation. But everyone stopped talking to watch young Bailey--mini-Shephard, "McBaby," Meredith thinks--shoot his shot with Dr. Morris. However, from their vantage point on the other side of throom, they can’t tell how badly Bailey just screwed up. Instead, all they see is his father…

Arizona takes the lead, simply stating, “God, he looks so much like Derek."

"Except the hair," Callie asserts. "But then, maybe the hair.” 

“It’s the color,” Meredith responds. “Of his hair. The color is what's confusing you. His is blonde, Derek’s was black—well salt and peppered, but mostly black.” Meredith chuckles. “He’s got Derek’s coif, with my color.” 

“Yeah…” Arizona mulls it over. 

Meredith smiles as she watches her son nervously run his hands through said-coif. Man, that woman must really be putting him on the spot. 

"And he manages to fit all that 'coif' into a scrub cap?" Arizona asks.

"He hasn't cut it off yet, so I imagine so," Meredith answers. 

At the metion of scrub caps, Dr. Bailey takes control of the conversation. “How did Christina pull him to cardio? I would’ve put money on him being neuro like Derek. Are you neuro, Zola?”

“No.” Zola answers. “General surgery, like Mom.” Zola smiles, proud of following in her mother’s footsteps. 

“Bailey tried neuro,” Meredith responds to the other half of her mentor’s question. “But it reminded him too much of Derek. He was young when…umm, it happened, and so I don’t think he remembers that much of Derek at work. But, it’s the other surgeons he was around. The neuro attendings. They reminded him of Derek.” 

"Yeah," Zola continues. "They always talked about, Dad. Well, them and the residents. I remember doing my neuro rotation and everyone just expecting me to have some inherited knowledge of the Shephard method. Or the best one: to have memorized every move of Dad's 'Great White Whale' surgery." She turns to her mother. "Remember? That massive spinal tumor that took him more than 20 hours combined, and boiled down to a game of eenie-meenie-miny-mo. Yeah. Everyone in every specialty wants to know, but the neuro residents and attendings are the only ones who bug you about it like everyday."

Zola looks directly at her mother as she continues, "It takes a very, _very_ bold Shephard to want to continue in neuro after, Dad." 

None of the doctors know how to respond to this. Grey-Sloan had had a very difficult time trying to replace Dr. Derek Shephard as the Head of Neurosurgery. Most doctors didn’t have enough gumption to try the balls-to-the-walls surgeries that Derek did. And the few doctors that did have gumption, didn’t have the skill to go along with it, and ended up killing a lot of patients chasing for their own Great White tumors. 

Dr. Avery is the first one to try and break the awkward silence, shifting the conversation away from medicine. “Well, he seems to have acquired some of Derek’s charm with the ladies.”

Avery’s referencing the fact that across the room, Bailey seems to have recovered from his blunder of questioning Dr. Morris’s ability to be an orthopedic surgeon: they’ve both left their drinks on the table and joined the other couples on the dance floor. 

Meredith beams with a certain pride in her son, watching the same scene as Avery, “Yes. The apple didn’t fall very far from the tree.” 

Zola adds, “McDreamy, Jr.” 

The entire crowd bursts into laughter. 

“You told them about that?!” Callie accuses Meredith. 

“Of course!” Meredith responds. “’McDreamy’ was a crucial part of my relationship with their father. Of course they know about McDreamy.” 

“And we love them both for it,” Zola smiles and gives her mom a squeeze.

Zola's phone buzzes, and she checks it. Then she leans even closer to Meredith and whispers in her ear, “Ellie’s here. She needs an invitation to get in.” 

“Yes.” Meredith reaches into her clutch for the invitation. 

Zola takes the invitation gently from her mother. “I’ll go get her.” 

“Thank you.” Meredith lets out a sigh of relief as Zola excuses herself from the group. 

Meredith watches, and smiles, as Zola embraces a woman with long dark hair and bright blue eyes at the door.


	3. The Dark-Haired Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Elf10444 for suggesting to have Meredith's children refer to Dr. Alex Karev as Uncle Alex.  
> Hope everyone enjoys the story! Sorry for the slow burn, but there is definitely more to come!

Zola lets the woman go. “You’re late,” she chastises. 

“I was in surgery,” the dark-haired woman replies. Her face is deadpan, and she’s staring directly into Zola’s eyes. 

After a moment, the two women burst into a fit of laughter. 

“How long have you been waiting to say that?” Zola asks.

“A lifetime.” 

“Thought so. Come on,” Zola commands. “Mom’s waiting to see you.” 

Zola leads the dark-haired woman over to Meredith, who steps out of the circle formed by Grey-Sloan’s attendings. 

Meredith's wathcing them come closer, and eventually can't contain her self any more. “Ellie!”, she exclaims as she throws her arms open wide. 

Meredith pulls the dark-haired woman into a hug, before stating, “You’re late." 

“I know, Mom. I know. I was stuck in surgery.” Ellie’s grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

Meredith laughs at her daughter’s unbridled joy and excitement. “You’re going to have to tell me all about it. What specialty was it? Did you get to hold a retractor? Who was the lead surgeon?”

“Okay okay.” Ellie brushes Meredith away. She just arrived and her hair is wet from the rain. She’s not ready to answer questions yet. “I need a drink first.” 

“Like mother like daughter.” Ellie shoves Zola playfully and walks away to the bar. 

All of Grey-Sloan’s attendings had been watching the exchange in quiet shock. Mom? Mom?! They all could have sworn Meredith only had two kids when she left the hospital. Did Meredith move on past Derek? What man could have made Meredith move on from McDreamy?! He must have magical powers or something. 

Meredith and Zola rejoin the now silent circle. Zola senses the tension, and can take a guess at the attendings’ questions. “Sooooo…” she begins. 

“So.” Avery uses the one word to prompt Zola. 

Meredith gives Zola a look that stops her from revealing the whole story about Ellie. If the attendings want to know what happened, they will have to pluck up the courage to ask.

Zola gets the hint. “So, Dr. Bailey, I’m a General Surgery Fellow at Georgetown, and I was hoping I could ask you a few questions. Pick your brain as it were—”

“Oh, that’s an interesting turn of phrase,” Arizona pipes up. 

Zola is well aware of that coy attempt to get her to talk about her dad. “Yeah…” is the only response she can give to Arizona before turning back to Dr. Bailey. 

“My mom tells me that one of her favorite surgeries at Grey-Sloan—well at the time it was Seattle Grace, but now, Grey-Sloan, anyway—was your domino transplant surgery.” 

“She was there. She dropped a kidney.” Dr. Bailey releases her signature short, biting phrases. “Why don’t you ask her about the surgery?” 

Zola does ask her mom about the surgery, and Meredith tells her anything she wants to know about it. Zola even knows about the dropped kidney. 

Meredith notices Zola is floundering a bit under the sudden shift in Dr. Bailey’s tone from curious maternal friend to argumentative teacher. She appreciates Zola’s attempt to diffuse the tension surrounding Ellie’s arrival, but places a hand on Zola’s arm to let her daughter know it’s okay; Meredith will take over. 

Zola smiles, happy to hand her mother the reins. 

Meredith doesn't get the chance to continue the conversation because a booming "Mer. Mer!" pierces through the noise of the music and the crowd.

Dr. Alex Karev rushes into the circle and wraps Meredith in a tight hug. 

“Oh, Alex!” Meredith exclaims into his chest. 

“Hi, Zola.” He gives Zola a brief squeeze. 

“Hi, Uncle Alex.”

Alex turns back to Meredith. "I just talked to Ellie over at the bar. Why didn’t you tell me you were here already? I thought we said you wanted me to walk you in.” 

“No, we did Alex,” Meredith clarifies. “But then Bailey and Zola were here and…I don’t know…” 

“Bailey walked her in,” Zola explains. 

“He was here—I know I said he was going to be late, but turns out it was Ellie who got herself stuck in surgery—and with the whole thing being about Derek—” Meredith prattles away. 

Alex stops her. “It’s okay Mer. Just…you’re okay.” 

“Yes, I’m okay.” Meredith smiles. 

“No. You’re not okay, Grey. Karev!” Dr. Bailey doesn’t care how sweet of a reunion it is between the two doctors here, she needs answers. “Somebody needs to explain to me what is going on here. Right now.” 

Alex Karev is an attending pediatric surgeon at Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital, and hasn’t been Dr. Bailey’s intern in almost 30 years, but that chastisement he and Meredith just received, that brought him back to his first day at Seattle Grace.

“I agree with Bailey on this,” Callie announces, and all the other attendings nod in agreement. 

Dr. Bailey stares at Meredith and Alex, waiting. 

“You haven’t asked me anything,” Meredith claps back. “Silently sure, but not one of you has actually asked about Ellie.” 

Meredith knew this reunion was going to be awkward, difficult even. Excluding They used to be her family. Grey-Sloan Memorial used to be her home. Used to be. 

When they were family, maybe she would have dignified all their silent questions with answers. But they aren't family anymore. Alex was the only one who came looking for her after Derek’s death, who visited her and her family at least twice a year, sometimes more, and FaceTimed her kids weekly if he couldn’t fly all the way out to Boston. She didn’t know the people standing around her. 

“If you want to know who Ellie is, Dr. Bailey, Dr. Avery, Dr. Torres, Dr. Robbins, ask me. Please don’t command me. Ask me.” 

The attendings are silenced by Meredith’s directness. 

And, after a moment of silent acknowledgement that she was out of line, Dr. Bailey asks, “Dr. Grey, myself and the rest of the attendings at Grey-Sloan Memorial have heard about your children, Bailey and Zola, and we would be very interested in learning about your third child—" she emphasizes the last two words of that speech “—Ellie…”

“Shephard. My daughter, Ellie—Ellis Shephard.” Meredith finishes.


	4. The History of Ellis Shephard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meredith tells the attendings about her thrid child, Ellis Shephard.

Ellie grabs her white wine spritzer off the bar, and walks across the room to investigate a large, Sharpie drawing of a spine on the wall as Meredith tells the other attendings Ellie’s story. 

“I didn’t know I was pregnant until after I left Grey-Sloan, although I don’t think I would have stayed even if I did know about it. There were too many, uh…memories here…to make me want to stay. 

“At first, I went to San Diego. Scripps Mercy had an opening in General Surgery and I took it. 

“Everything was going smoothly—the new house, the new job, the pregnancy, surprisingly because of my previously hostile uterus…” She waits hoping someone in the circle will laugh at the joke, or tell her that her uterus is not hostile. Like Derek did. Nothing. 

“Anyway…it was all smooth until my placental abruption. I collapsed, needed an emergency c-section, and a babysitter for Zola and Bailey. Alex was my emergency contact, so they called him.” 

“Not Christina? Wow. Thought she was ‘your person’.” The surprise and sarcasm drips out of Avery’s mouth. 

“No.” Meredith shuts this down. “Christina is my person. Will always be my person. But she lives in Zurich, so it would have been highly impractical for her to be my emergency contact. Alex was the only person I could trust who could get to me in time should something happen. 

"Anyway..." Meredith shakes off the Avery's comment and continues. “He showed up. And met Elle." 

"She was the cutest thing I had ever seen." Alex pipes up. "And you know I've seen a lot of kids. No, man. Ellie was adorable." 

"Thanks," Zola shoots at him. 

Alex's nudges Zola like the annoying uncle he is. Zola loves him, and she knows he's just pulling her leg. 

Meredith continues, "If we’re being honest, he was the only one who called even after I had left. I didn’t answer his calls. But at least he still called.” 

Meredith didn’t mean to call everyone out like that. She didn’t mean to make every attending in this circle stare down into their drinks in shame. Really, she didn’t. But once she got going, she just couldn’t stop. She didn’t realize how much she wanted all of these people understand what they'd done to her—make her feel like she didn’t have a family anymore—until she did it. 

Meredith takes a long drink, and then a breath before she continues. 

“Alex couldn’t stay for more than a week, and after that it was just me and the kids. Weekly video calls from Alex, sure, but it was still just me." 

"Untilll..." Zola drags out the word for dramatic effect.

Meredith smiles. "Until out of the blue, Derek’s mom called. I think it was for some holiday…”

“Thanksgiving,” Zola clarifies. 

“Yes,” Meredith continues. “She hadn’t seen the kids in a while. hadn't actually met Ellie. And thought it would be nice to have everyone together for the first Thanksgiving without Derek. No one else called, so I told her yes. I packed up my three kids, hopped on a seven hour plane to New York, and spent Thanksgiving with Carolyn and the rest of the Shephards’ very…very…large family. At least by my standards. 

“The kids laughed, played with their cousins, and had an overall great time. And I had a week of not having to worry about my children every second of every day because their aunts, uncles, older cousins, and grandma were looking out for them. That was the first solid sleep I'd had. So, it took a few weeks, but I transferred out to New York-Presbyterian. 

“Bailey and Zola don’t really remember anything about Seattle or San Diego. All three of my kids are New Yorkers through and through. They all went to Bronx School of Science…” 

“Which Bailey will still remind you is the school that Midtown Science—Spiderman’s high school—is based on.” Zola laughs at her 30-year-old bother’s lifelong obsession with the superhero. Meredith joins her. 

"Oh, remind me of that for his birthday," Alex says. "I want to get him some cool scrub caps, and a Spiderman one would be great." 

Meredith laughs at Alex. “Zola, here, loved going to the Met Opera with her grandma…” 

“It's the reason I play the cello,” Zola explains. 

“She’s very good.” Meredith is ever the proud, doting mother. “And Bailey learned to play soccer in Central Park. Ended up being varsity captain in high school. He did not get that from me.” 

Arizona laughs at Meredith's self-depricating joke: of the two—Derek or Meredith—there is not question from anyone in the group about where Bailey inherited his athletic abilities. The mood in the circle begins to lighten. 

Meredith continues, “And Ellie…my sweet little Ellie…she loved riding the ferry boats all over the Hudson River, especially the one from Manhattan to Coney Island. Probably because she could get ice cream and ride some rollercoasters at the end.” 

Meredith has tears in her eyes as she thinks about the undying love for ferry boats that Ellie shares with the father she never knew. Meredith has pictures lining the mantel in New York of Ellie at all different ages standing at the front of the ferry arms in the air in celebration, trying to keep a Yankees cap on her head, and bundling herself against the winter chill blowing over the river. She’s wears the biggest, most unashamed smile in every picture. Sure she has pictures with all three of her kids on the ferry boats (she might even be able to dig up one or two where she asked a stranger to take a picture of the four of them together), but no one else in the family could ever match Ellie’s enthusiasm for ferry boats and her smiles in those photos. No one, except maybe Derek. 

Every attending in the circle smiles with Meredith at this revelation about the mysterious Ellis Shephard. 

“She likes ferry boats?” Avery seems to need clarification. 

“Yes.” Zola provides it. “Ellie likes ferry boats so much that she rides them back and forth for hours to study for her exams. Technically she’s supposed to need a ticket to go each way, but the guys who work on the boats know her and rarely kick her off. Sometimes they let her ride in the navigation booth, driver’s cabin, or whatever they call it. Ask her. She knows.” 

Everyone laughs. They all know that if his work schedule would’ve allowed it, Derek would never have gotten off Seattle’s ferryboats. 


	5. Picture of the Great White

Ellie takes a sip of her white wine spritzer, and lets it slide coolly down her throat. She bites her lips and stares at the picture on the wall in front of her: a spine drawn with green, red, and yellow sharpie with the vertebras T 1-7, draining veins, feeding arteries, and nerve roots labelled in black sharpie. The spine pops off its light-yellow background. 

Ellie tilts her head as she studies the picture. But she’s not studying the incredibly intricate and accurate spinal diagram. She notes the perfect right angles of the capital T’s, and the way the bulge of the capital R takes up almost the entirety of its support staff with almost no room left for the diagonal line out. Ellie’s seen these letters before. They stare back at her from her own medical school notes every day. Those T’s are her T’s. Those R’s are her R’s. The irregularity of the capital E’s – 

“It’s stunning. Isn’t it?” Ellie whips her head around to the female voice. 

A striking woman with dark auburn hair comes to stand next to Ellie. She’s holding a whiskey sour with an orange wedge in it. 

“Dr. Addison Montgomery.” She holds her hand out to Ellie. 

Ellie switches her drink to her left hand and shakes Addison’s outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Addison notes that Ellie didn’t say her name, but decides not to press the issue. She turns the conversation back to the spine on the wall, “It’s much more colorful than the actual thing. You know. Nerve roots aren’t really green—”

“And tumors aren’t really yellow?” Ellie finishes Addison’s statement with a chuckle. 

“Exactly.” Addison smiles. “Do you know the…” she thinks a moment, deciding what the right word would be. She settles on “artist? Do you know the artist?” 

“Dr. Derek Shepherd, right?” 

“Yup. Magnificent surgeon.” 

“I would hope so,” Ellie replies. “Given that they’re naming this whole brand-new neurosurgery wing after him.” 

Of course Ellie knew what kind of surgeon her father was. When other girls got stories of princesses and prince charmings before bed, she and her siblings got stories of their father’s surgeries. Then she went to medical school, and read case studies of Dr. Shepherd’s ground-breaking medical exploits: closing a hole in a patient’s inner ear; taking a pole out of two train accident survivors; building a new spine for a patient suffering from VATER syndrome; and then, of course, the spinal tumor on the wall in front of her. 

“He would love having all this. Especially having his name on the side of a hospital building,” Addison says. 

“Oh, I’m sure!” Ellie can’t help but laughing this time. “My mom told me once, there was this massive party fundraiser for the hospital—circus themed, I think—and he brought my brother out of the nursery to woo donors.” 

Addison laughs at the story. “That sounds like Derek.” 

The women’s laughter dies away. They go back to looking at the painting: Addison remembering the handsome doctor who would’ve drawn something like this on a wall, and Ellie trying to match different parts of this picture to the different stories everyone’s told her about her father. 

Finally, Addison speaks again. “Wait, who’s your brother?” 

“Oh.” Ellie knows she’s said a little too much now. “Yeah…my brother. Dr…um…Dr. Bailey Shepherd. He’s doing a cariology residency over at John’s Hopkins.” 

“Shepherd?” Addison takes a large gulp of her drink. 

“Yeah.” 

Now Addison needs to know who she’s talking to. “And you’re name?”

“Also a doctor. Ellis Shepherd.” 

“Ellis.” Addison takes another drink. There’s only one doctor in the world who would name her daughter Ellis. 

For the first time in the conversation, Addison takes a long look at Ellis Shepherd. Her long dark hair falls in perfect waves down her back, and her bright blue eyes have a depth to them that betray what Addison is sure is incredible intelligence. Her nails are painted in with a dainty light pink nail polish, and her hands grip her spritzer without wavering. Surgeon’s hands, Addison knows. 

Watching the reverence with which this Ellis Shepherd stares at the picture in on the wall, Addison thinks she already knows the answer to her question, but asks it anyway. “And what is your specialty?” 

Ellie takes a sharp breath in before answering. “Neuro.” 

“Yeah.” Addison takes a swig of her drink. 

“Yeah.” 

Ellie knew Dr. Addison Montgomery from her medical reputation. As the foremost specialist in neo-natal care, Dr. Montgomery has just any many cases in Ellie’s medical textbook as her mother and father. But Ellie is sensing that Addison’s relationship with her father is much more than just professional. Maybe Addison’s relationship with her too. But her mother never spoke of Addison, so Ellie really doesn’t know, and she can’t tell from the woman’s awkward silence.

“This picture is just a copy of the original drawing.” Ellie decides talking is the best way to alleviate the awkwardness. “My dad made it long before I was born. Long before Zola was even adopted. Looooong time ago.” Ellie laughs. 

Addison nods, still trying to process that Derek and Meredith built a family together.

Ellie continues. “It was originally on their bedroom wall. Then when they moved, my dad actually carved it out of the wall. They brought it their new house and hung it in the same spot over their bed. Then Dad died. And we moved. The only thing Mom took from the house besides clothes and stuff, the only decorations she took, was this picture. She hung it in the same spot over her bed when we got to New York. 

“Before the invitations for this whole shindig even went out, Alex Karev sent my brother an email asking if he had anything that could be used to decorate the place. This is only a copy. Of the real picture. Mom would kill us if anything happened to the original.”

Addison’s just staring at the picture. Ellie takes a long drink of her spritzer, and continues. 

“When I was 10 or something, my mom let the Pearson textbook people come a take official photos of it, for a new neurosurgery textbook. I remember being in med school and having everyone in my study group beg me for the answer as to why my dad, after a grueling 14 hour surgery, decided to cut draining vein A instead of vein B. You know? Legend has it he picked vein A with a game of ennie-meenie-minie-moe. But the kids in my class, with encouragement from my professor, was convinced my dad knew something subconsciously about the tumor that helped him pick vein A. We studied the official scans, and this picture for hours prepping for our exam. 

“Everyone wanted to be in my study group. They thought, based on my biological relation to the man, I would know exactly why he chose A over B. But, I’m just as much in the dark as the rest of them. Failed that question on the exam just like everyone else. 

“My brother bailed on neuro as a specialty because of it all. I’ve stuck with neuro because, just like the rest of the world, I want to try and discover what that subconscious knowledge is.” 

Ellie takes a drink, punctuating the end of her rant. “But, yeah…neuro is my specialty.” 

“Well,” Addison has finally found her voice again. “If you’re anything as driven as your father, or even your mother, I’m sure you’ll make an excellent neurosurgeon.” 

“Thanks.” Ellie’s used to statements like that. “I’ll certainly do my best. Big shoes to fill and all that.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about filling his shoes. If we’re being honest, I loved his sweaters and ties, great pants, both jeans and suits, but his shoes…questionable sometimes.”

Addison chuckles. “Your shoes are much better. Fill your own shoes.” 

That’s a sentiment Ellie has not heard before. She’s taken aback. “Thank you.” 

“Oh, you’re welcome.” 

“No, really. Thank you, Dr. Montgomery.” 

“Oh, stop it. Outside of work my friends call me Addison, and this is a social event. I’m sure if your father was here, he’d want you to call me Addison, too.” Addison looks back towards the picture. “I’d like to think he would still consider me a friend.” 

“I’m sure he would.” 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Bailey looks around the room as he escorts Dr. Morris off the dance floor. His eyes land on Ellie smiling at the dark auburn-haired woman. Knowing his sister, and having watched her answer questions about med school a hundred times over, he knows the two women are making small talk about where Ellie studies. 

He reads her lips as she gives the long winded, “Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons.” Same as their dad. He hears the auburn-haired woman's excited "Me too!" from across the dance floor.

Dr. Morris tugs his hand, pulling his attention away from his sister and back to her.

"Are you coming, Dr. Shephard?" She smiled and swung her hips at him, making the bottom of her dress swish around her ankles.

 _Oh, yes._ He thought to himself. _Most certainly, yes._


End file.
